


When Dean Met The Crazy Tablet Lady

by IsViciousMotivator



Series: The Crazy Tablet Lady And The Winchesters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25996777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsViciousMotivator/pseuds/IsViciousMotivator
Summary: How did a simple mission involving eliminating Abbadon's supporter, turn out such a disaster for Demon Dean? But then again that only goes to show that while he may certainly have changed species, Dean still can't escape the Winchester luck and all the disasters and detours it entails.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s), Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Crazy Tablet Lady And The Winchesters [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052336
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel for my other Supernatural story, called 'That's A Real Life Bronze Age Priestess Sammy'. Both can be read at the same time. See end notes for translations.

There weren’t many differences between life as a human and life as a demon, at least for Dean. He was doing the same things that he’d always done. Drink. Fuck Drive. Kill. The key difference was now he gets to enjoy himself a lot more, and not get constantly crushed his burdens and responsibilities. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t hunting anymore or maybe it was because he finally got rid of Sam. However somehow everything was just better. Liberating even. And he didn’t want to change anything about it.

Why the fuck would he?

The King of Hell was turning out to be a perfect companion for him, simply by encouraging his habits. Drink. Fuck. Drive. Kill. More importantly, he knew when to leave Dean alone. Theirs had become a relationship of mutual appreciation. Dean doesn’t have to be subjected to someone’s constant complaining and whining and Crowley gets the remaining Abaddon’s supporters successfully eliminated. Without ever getting his hands dirty or risking anything of his own, just the way he likes it.

However for the life of him, Dean can’t figure out why they are still fighting. For what purpose? The bitch is dead. But no, some demons just refuse to accept it. Like the ones he chased right upto New York, and had broken into the Met museum to steal something. He doesn’t know exactly what and he doesn’t want to know. He didn’t care what it was, because he was going to kill every last one of them before they could get their hands on anything.

And honestly, he’s looking forward to this. He has this whole night planned. Kill every single one of hell bitches. Drink too much even for a demon. Find an easy bar skank. And drive away, leaving the Big Apple behind.

Drink. Fuck. Drive. Kill.

xXx

How many demons can fit inside of a museum’s art wing? Just enough to make this night really entertaining for Dean. And also for the Mark, of course. It’s like for every one he kills two more show up, only to throw him around like a rag doll. He must have been thrown for the tenth time when he smashed into a glass case, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Probably destroying whatever it contained. The demon who had flung him, started to approach him, when suddenly every single one of them, him and the remaining dozen or so demons, were blinded by a burst of white light. And then it disappeared, just as quickly as it had appeared, sending all of them in the darkness once more. As if nothing had happened at all. Except for the horrified looking woman currently sitting next to him on the marble floor.

Son of a bitch.

Where the fuck did she come from? And why is her life force acting so freaking weird?

He wanted to voice that particular question, but he was distracted by the Mark burning all of a sudden. That and the fact that one of the demons charged ahead, towards him and the woman.

“Time to end this bullshit.” He’ll deal with her and the misbehaving Mark later.

It was easy enough to take down every single one of them, the First Blade pretty much sliced through them like butter. By the time he was finished, there was blood everywhere, on the floor , just a smidge on the walls, and yes, even on him. All the while the Mark on his arm was still stinging, just a bit.

Finally he turned towards the woman, who was still on the floor and still looking horrified. The only source of light were the stars, which were shinning through the giant glass ceiling, but he was quite easily able to make out her features with his superhuman vision. Big brown eyes, long black hair, both of them shining bright. Flawless skin, olive complexion. She was wearing a long dress and had a scarf wrapped around her waist, and was covered in a variety of gold jewellery, earrings, necklaces, bangles, and armbands, even her ankles and toes had them. Just a regular human, with an incredibly misbehaving life force.

“Now, what do I do with you?” He asked, not expecting a reply, and not really getting one. Though what he really was thinking, why hadn’t he simply killed her already. He should, right? Yet somehow, it almost felt like he wasn’t allowed. What the fuck is happening? It would be an understatement to say that he was confused. She must’ve been too. Yes, she most certainly was. He knows she is. It was as if he could feel her confusion.

But why?

How?

The woman wasn’t even paying any attention to him. She was looking down at her left hips or maybe her left thigh. Gingerly touching her flesh through her clothes, as if she was in pain.

Dean decided enough was enough and in an attempt to grab her attention, shouted as loud as he could, “Hey!” The sight of her getting startled and jumping would’ve made him laugh, but he still had no idea as to what the fuck had just happened here? He started to rapidly step towards her, determined to get to the bottom of whatever this was and whoever she was, once and for all.

“Zinna!” She choked out. And he couldn’t move anymore. It was as if he had stepped into wet cement. The woman had gone back to ignoring him, as she was fascinated by the glass ceiling above them. She quickly got up on her feet, all the while still staring upwards. He was barely able to hear her whisper, “Haaster!” And started to cry and laugh at the same time. She finally acknowledged him again, and moved closer to him, all the while pointing towards the ceiling and said, “Nepis suwant katti mēkkies Haaster.”

“Lady, I do not understand what you’re saying. I don’t even know what bloody language you’re speaking right now - ”

“Hittite. I was speaking Hittite. And you are speaking English.” Came her calm reply. She spoke slowly, with a heavy accent, and had gone back to ignoring him and staring at the glass ceiling with her tear-filled eyes. They were both the tears of joy and of sadness.

He somehow knew that.

Why did he know that?

And why can’t he fucking move?

“I was talking about the stars. And how the sky is filled with so many of them.”

“Did you say Hittite?” He glanced at the several giant cloth banners hanging all around them, with the words, ‘Forgotten Empires : Hittite Art’ written on them, then towards the shattered glass fragments on the floor, with the broken fragments of whatever it was being contained, amongst them.

No way. No fucking way. He asked her who is was.

“I am Muwatti. I was cursed and locked inside a clay tablet for over three thousand years. You broke it and released me.”

“Why were you cursed?” She said she didn’t know. “Who cursed you?” Again, she didn’t know. This was not how he was expecting the night to go. Dealing with a three thousand old cursed women was definitely not what he had planned for tonight. “How can you not know?”

“I do not remember. I was attacked and then I was cursed andafterwards found myself inside the tablet.” She seemed to take a deep sniff, she asked him why does it smell like rotten eggs.

“You crazy bitch, are fucking serious?” His temper was getting the better of him, since he still wasn’t able to move his bloody feet.

“Yes, I am fucking serious. And I am not crazy, so fuck you, you fucking piece of fuckiest fuck.”

So, she’s over three thousand years old, can speak fluent English and also swears like a sailor. Is all of this really happening or did Crowley slip him some acid again? He had even more questions, but she was again ignoring him. The woman, Muwatti, was once more distracted, by another artefact on display, and ran towards it. He heard her whisper something that sounded like ‘nekna’. He shouted at her, which only made her shout at him to be silent. And he did. Motherfucker. Now he can neither move nor talk. He doesn’t know how or why but she’s definitely behind it all.

“How far away is Turkey from here?” She asked him, completely unaware of what she had done to him, turning around when he didn’t answer her. When she stepped closer to him, she gasped, “Your eyes, they are completely black. They had black eyes as well.” Pointing towards the bodies of all the demons he killed, lying on the floor. “Are you human?” However the only thing he could do was angrily glare at her with his black eyes, until she told him to answer her.

“No, I’m not human. I’m a demon.” A demon that she hasn’t realised she can control using only her words. This cannot be happening. She is the answer to all of Crowley’s prayers. Their relationship may be jovial, but the King of Hell was under no illusion that he can’t keep Dean in check. But now he can, in the form a tiny barefooted crazy woman who really loves the stars.After all Crowley fully expects to get something out of this bromance. Dean hadn’t felt much in terms of fear, ever since be became a demon, but just the thought of the King of Hell controlling him through her was truly a frightening thought. Which is why he can’t allow Crowley or anyone really, to find out about her unique ability.

“Is that why I was freed after all this time? Because a demon touched the tablet?” He saw her hand touch the upper part of her left thigh through her dress, and he was able to make out a tattoo of eight pointed star on the back of her hand. A quick glance told him there was a matching one on the other hand as well.

“Maybe. I’m not completely sure about what happen here tonight.” But he will definitely find everything there was, about her and that damn tablet. Her life force wasn’t behaving like that of a regular human would. It was pulsing sure, everyone’s did, but hers was almost in sync with the Mark. Even the broken pieces of the tablet that contained her was pulsing the same way, in sync with the Mark. Maybe just any run of the mill demon wasn’t enough to break ancient curses, rather it had to be a demon with the Mark of Cain. And is that the reason why she can control him, because for some unknown reason the Mark really seems to like her?

However as much he would’ve liked to keep theorising about herand her curse and, crucially, her strange ability to control him, he knew that any moment anyone could walk in. The demons had taken care of the guards on duty but someone was bound to come looking for them any moment now. He tried to explain this to her, as best as he could without outright blurting out that she has to tell him to move, because they need to leave this place as soon as possible. Instead of moving, she asked him if he had a name.

“Yes sweetheart, I have a name. I’m Dean.”

“Hello Dean the Demon, I have another question for you.” Seriously woman, why do like wasting my time so much? “Are you going to to kill me?”

“No. I won’t hurt you.” Wasn’t sure how he could, even if he tried or wanted to. “Now can we please go.”

She gave the different artefacts of her lost culture one last look, before turning back to him, “That’s a pity. Because I’m not sure what living means anymore. However you’re right, let’s go.”

And just like that, he was able to move his feet once again, and could leave this fucking museum once and for all, with Muwatti following after him. He did grab the broken tablet pieces though. If only Sammy could see him now, really would’ve been so proud of his big brother, gathering evidence for further research and helping the damsel in distress, all at the same time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zinna - Stop
> 
> Haaster -Star
> 
> Nepis suwant katti mēkkies Haaster - The sky is filled with so many stars
> 
> Nekna - Brother


	2. Chapter 2

It was the next morning and Dean still had no idea about the how or the why, as far as the events of the last night were concerned. The only thing he had managed to learn was that Muwatti really loved asking questions about the thing around her, but then immediately forgets the names only to come up with her own explanation. The loud metal thing that moves faster than a horse (the car), the tall glass towers things that touch the sky (the skyscrapers), the small hand box that emits a cold light and very loud noises (his cellphone).

They had been driving through the whole night, without sleeping. She didn’t because she just refused to stop asking questions about every single fucking thing. And he didn’t because he’s a demon and he doesn’t need to anymore, obviously. Also he had so many damn things to think about, like answering all of Muwatti’s questions, how to prevent her from ordering him to do something or not do something, Crowley continuously calling him probably to ask where was he, Muwatti asking him does his small hand box always make so much noise, him continuing to ignore Crowley, but most importantly to not let Crowley figure out about her unique little ability. Something that was going to be extremely problematic, since the damn weasel will definitely try to dig up all the information once he finds out about her existence.

Safe to say, Dean was stressed. And whenever Dean felt stressed there was only place he wanted to go, a strip club. So after picking up some take away of burger and fries for Muwatti, rightfully thinking the woman must have worked up quite an appetite after literally thousands of years, he immediately drove them to the nearest strip club he could find. However this little trip was proving to be a bit useless, since he found himself more concerned about the fact that she had never seen or eaten a potato before.

“It’s not that shocking, Dean the Demon - ”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Potatoes are indigenous to the New World, which is why until that was discovered, the rest of the world would not have known about this plant.” She said while closely observing each and every one of the fries in front of her without touching them. “Is this how they are found in nature?”

“Wait, how do you know about the the New World and what sort of things it contains?”

She seemed to be done with observation and had now finally proceeded to touch them and poking them, with a fork. “From the historians of course. I could hear everything while inside the tablet. For the past hundred years, I have been made privy to all manners talks by scholars. It’s how I was able to learn English.” A century of just listening to dull and dry conversations of history nerds is exactly how he would’ve imagined Hell, if he hadn’t been there a couple of times himself. She then cut a fry, still using the fork, and went back to observing. “Did you not find it strange how a person who is older than the English language was able to speak it?”

Honestly, he didn’t even think about it until she pointed it to him. So fucking what? He had bigger things to think about. How was he able to release her, and more importantly, when is she finally going to put the damn freaking fry in her mouth and eat it?This was becoming increasingly annoying for him. Because instead of actually eating, she was now cutting all of the fries in half.

“If your whole kink is watching her eat, then did you even bother here in the middle of the day.” Asked an irritated stripper, hugging the pole above them.

“What difference does it make to you?” He angrily asked her, making his voice even deeper and more dangerous. He loudly slapped more money in front of her and commanded her to keep dancing. Which she promptly did, if only a bit more nervously than before. He was in the middle of thinking how easily he could snap her neck, and the necks of all the women on the stage, as well bashing in the heads of the pathetic clientele, when Muwatti interrupted his thoughts by telling the stripper she had never heard her accent before and asking her what it is called.

“I’m from Mississippi. And you have an interesting accent too.” It looked like she was going to elaborate, but one angry glare from him shut her right up. She went back to dancing pretty quickly after that, after she called him an asshole. It was barely a whisper, but with his enhanced sense he was able to pick it quite easily.

“What is the point of this establishment?” Muwatti asked him, while giving the place a once over. “I can see that breasts certainly play a prominent role, but since this place exists, am I to be believe that breasts are a rare commodity these days? Otherwise what is the point of sitting here with other strange and sad men, and paying money just to be able to look at a pair of tits?” 

Did she just call him strange and sad?

However he was neither able to ask her that nor answer any of her questions, since luckily or unluckily, Crowley showed up and sat down on a chair next to Muwatti. Fuck my life.

“You were supposed to call me the minute after taking care of the business at the museum. You do realise that I had to get the whole wing deep cleaned at a record speed. I told you to be thorough, not give me more work and then disappear for the whole night.” For being the King of Hell, he absolutely loves to complain in that smug tone. Or maybe he just loves to hear his voice. “And then I find you here. With this little bird.” He pointed at Muwatti and if heart could still beat, it certainly would’ve stopped right bloody now. “Did he even bother asking you for your name darling?”

He attempted to tell Crowley to ignore her and that she was a nobody. But his attempt of distracting him away from Muwatti proved to be futile when at the same time she said to him, in an indignant tone, “Yes, he did. I am Muwatti. I was cursed and locked inside a clay tablet for over three thousand years. Dean the Demon broke it and released me.”

Son of a bitch.

Dean could practically see the gears turning in Crowley’s head, as he began to process that new information and gave Muwatti a meticulous once-over. It was easy for him to just dismiss her as an quick lay earlier, but now he knew better. The only thing he had to say was, “Muwatti means ‘father’s strength’ in Hittite. I recall reading a long time ago, that in Hittite tradition, children were given their names by their mother. So was it your mother’s decision to call you that?”

Neither she nor Dean said anything to him, not that Crowley needed them to, and judging by the shit-eating grin on his face, he knew that she most definitely wasn’t a nobody.

“This is amazing. I’m going to eat this everyday from now on.” Exclaimed Muwatti, who finally ate the now soggy fry. Enhanced healing be damned, this woman will give him an ulcer soon enough.


End file.
